Tonight You Belong to Me
by civillove
Summary: Mentions of Klaine; eventual Blainchel. Blaine wasn't entirely sure why Rachel Berry found her way to his doorstep any time she was drunk; but he was quickly discovering that he learned more about himself every time she did it.
1. One Hundred Percent

**Title**: Tonight You Belong to Me  
**Pairing**: mentions of Klaine; eventual Blainchel  
**Summary**: Blaine wasn't entirely sure why Rachel Berry found her way to his doorstep every time she was drunk; in all honesty he's was just impressed that she somehow managed to cross the street every time without getting hit by a car.  
**Type: **Ficlet  
**Rating**: Eventually NC-17  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything but the idea :)  
**AN2**: This fic basically laps over Rachel and Kurt's sophomore year in college; around 20 years old. Which means any drinking that is done is with the help of a fake ID. So unless stated otherwise (like unless I say 'a year' later) Kurt and Rachel are 20 and Blaine is 19.

Chapter 1: One Hundred Percent

Blaine had just settled into his new apartment in New York, it had taken him a few months but he had finally done it. He couldn't believe that after all the New York talk with Kurt and handling a long distance relationship that he had finally just done it. He had taken the plunge. He had moved, picked up his entire life, everything he knew, just to be closer with his boyfriend.

Even though Kurt was busy with his newfound love for New York; getting to know the city through new, eager eyes and exciting experiences, and weighed down by his burdening classes (he assured him he loved every minute of it) he made sure he had time to see him and made sure that Blaine settled into the bustling, busy, fast-track New York life as easily as he could.

His belongings were all put away; the cardboard boxes transporting his life long gone and folded in his closet. He had had a hard time finding a job that would support his rent and he had tried more than once to sit down and figure out what to do about college. He wasn't one to ever think that he could just take a year off and reevaluate his life and choices when that year was up but as the months passed and Blaine hadn't made the effort to look into any schools, it seemed like that was just what he was doing.

When he had finally found a steady job at Starbucks about a month ago and the pay wasn't so bad, he felt like he could finally breathe again; all the anxiety and stress weighing on his shoulders since he got to New York falling aside. He could make the money work and still keep a roof over his head. Rachel had told him once that if he couldn't keep his apartment that he could stay in hers—with Finn moving out there was a spare bedroom.

Blaine's fingers clasped around a mug as he pulled it out of his cupboard in the small kitchen located near his front door. He lazily put a pot of coffee on, listening to the machine gurgle and spit as it came to life.

Rachel.

He shook his head and twirled the mug slowly on the kitchen counter; thinking about the crazy girl that he had slowly become best friends with over the past year.

When Kurt, Rachel and Finn had graduated, all moving to New York to settle into their new lives, Rachel had promised him one thing before he left—that she'd keep in touch with him no matter what. He had been touched, to say the least, Kurt must have told her how worried he was about being forgotten—about being left behind while the three of them put Lima in their rearview mirror.

When she said goodbye to him, he had hugged her harder than he had hugged Kurt and he had managed a lopsided smile when she kissed his cheek in a friendly manner. She had quickly become someone he could confide in when he and Kurt fought over the phone; the distance between them that first year apart gnawing on their relationship like a vulture. The pair had had so many phone calls over that year that Blaine found himself having trouble keeping track of all the topics they had spoken about. Blaine had called her for relationship advice (because when he and Kurt were rocky, Rachel and Finn were usually in a good place) and Blaine quickly realized that she called him for _everything_. Not that it bothered him; not really anyways…she always found a way to make him smile and sometimes her antics caused him to laugh so hard that he doubled over, an aching stitch in his side that he could never get rid of for at least an hour.

Even when Blaine made it to New York, the phone calls between them hadn't ceased. Rachel called him about classes she was taking; shopping trips she wanted to make, and how her relationship with Finn had been taking some harsh twists and turns.

"She calls you more than me, you know." Kurt had told him one night over dinner. Blaine hadn't really known what to make out of his boyfriend's comment. "And _I'm_ her best friend."

Blaine hadn't responded, instead directing Kurt's attention to the movie they had been watching. He felt like he had to defend himself for talking to Rachel and it almost made him angry that he couldn't just talk to her without there being a certain reason. Rachel and Kurt were still friends but he could tell they had drifted apart, just a little, from the enduring stress and commitment to NYADA; even though both of them wouldn't admit it.

Blaine and Rachel's friendship had taken a turn when Finn had broken up with Rachel (he understood the anxiety Finn had been under with a busy, stress-crazed Rachel and that he barely got to see her…but ending a strong relationship with her so suddenly had been a little harsh). Blaine could still hear Rachel's choking sobs as he thought back to that one haunting phone call two weeks ago. They usually caught up with each other on the phone on days that they didn't see one another in person and her phone call to him at exactly ten PM (she liked to be punctual) hadn't seemed like anything other than ordinary.

Until, of course, he realized she couldn't talk without crying.

Her pain had been like a punch to his gut and finally he just asked her if she needed him to come over; because he was already halfway out the door—pulling his shoes and his jacket on as he tried to walk down the hall, and the steps, to the busy nightlife of the street he lived on.

Rachel had said she wanted to see him (which was great, seeing as how he had walked all the way to her place and had stood outside her apartment door whilst on the phone with her) but only him. Not Kurt.

That alone should have sent warning bells off in his head—but it hadn't because…he wanted to see her without Kurt there too.

And that _really_ should have sent some kind of warning message to the reasoning part of his brain (because neither of them should have wanted Kurt not to be there) but all he could think about when she opened the door to let him in was how to get her to stop sobbing like that. Heaving breathes that shook her body to the point where he thought it wouldn't stop and relentless tears down tear tracks on her cheeks.

He had held her while she cried, had pulled her onto his lap on her couch and had let her wind her arms around his neck; pushing her face into his neck and shoulder for as long as she had needed. He hadn't left her side until he was _sure_ she was alright; when her smile actually brought light to her face and she could talk without her voice trembling.

When Blaine had gotten home from her apartment; he knew something between them had changed. She had needed him; needed him like no one else. Kurt was supposedly her best friend but she had called him instead; letting him wrap his arms around her shoulders and hold her so close that her body had almost molded into his.

And as wrong as it felt, he _liked_ being needed by Rachel Berry and he figured that's why he always opened his door to her no matter what time she knocked at.

And for some reason, Rachel always seemed to find her way to his doorstep when she was drunk. Even though it always sort of angered him, because _Jesus Christ_ couldn't she just call him to come and get her? he had to give her credit for not getting hit by any cars on her way over.

When a knock sounded, pulling Blaine out of his thoughts, he nearly dropped the coffee mug on the kitchen floor. He sighed, running a hand through his tousled, untamed curls as he went to look through the peep hole in his front door.

One guess for who it was.

He opened the door and licked his lips as Rachel beamed up at him, plastered two ways from Sunday. "Blainey-bear!"

He grunted when she threw herself into his arms, hanging on him like her life nearly depended on it. "Rachel, please tell me you didn't walk here." He had no idea why he bothered asking her that anymore.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, tugging her into his apartment before shutting the door with his foot. He adjusted himself and fought to bring her upright; when he finally managed to get her on her own two feet she smiled lazily at him, finally realizing he had made a statement at her that deemed an actual answer.

"It's a beautiful night—" She sang. "I walked, silly goose." She tapped his nose with her finger and when he smacked her hand away it nearly knocked her off balance. "I was only a few blocks away at that bar with that pig statue…you _know_," She snorted and Blaine fought off a smile. "The one with the tutu?"

"That…" He shook his head. "Doesn't make me feel any better, Rach."

Blaine sighed; making sure his arm was securely fastened around her as he took her to the bathroom. He closed the toilet seat and sat her down, digging for a washcloth in the cabinet next to the mirror above the sink.

"That place is a complete dive, what were you even doing there?" He asked, turning the water on lukewarm. He let the washcloth soak as he kneeled in front of her, tugging at her shirt to see a giant beer stain marring the white fabric. "Kurt would kill you if he saw this, you know. He bought this for you at that expensive vintage shop you like."

Her whole face seemed to scrunch up at Kurt's name and she shook her head, swatting Blaine's hand off her shirt. "They have free drink Wednesday's."

"It's Tuesday, Rachel."

"So _that's_ why everything was so expensive." She giggled loudly at her slurred speech and the fact that she had probably spent any cash she had had on pink drinks and shitty beers.

Blaine stood up and grabbed the washcloth from the sink and turned the water off, wringing out any excess water from the fabric before kneeling back down in front of her.

"Take this off for me." He took her hand and clasped her fingers around the bottom of her shirt.

She groaned, like the movement was causing her physical pain. "Blaaaaainee." She whined, her lower lip jutting out into a pout.

His eyes lingered on that pout longer than he should have and he swallowed before helping her slide the shirt off her head. He set the shirt down on the floor before leaning up with the washcloth, gently padding the sides of her face and the back of her neck.

"You gonna tell me what happened to make you end up at _Ugly Pete's_?" Blaine asked softly, watching her lean into his touch as he cupped the side of her face with the washcloth, running his thumb over her cheekbone.

"I don't understand what Ugly Pete has to do with a pig in a tutu." She stated.

Blaine smiled and shook his head. "Your guess," He pulled his hand back. "is as good as mine."

He stood up after he grabbed her shirt and rested the washcloth on the sink before he left the bathroom, setting her shirt on his hamper to wash it and grabbed a black t-shirt from his dresser drawer. He walked back into the bathroom to find her leaning all the way back against the toilet, her head back against the wall.

Blaine touched her knee as he kneeled down between her legs. "Come on," He said gently, leaning her up.

She groaned and shook her head, pushing his hands away. "No, no shirts. M'hot." She grumbled.

He sighed, reaching for the washcloth again. This time he soaked it in cold water before resting it gently on the back of her neck; her head lulling forward to rest against his. Their foreheads touched; her eyes closed—her long, thick eyelashes against her pink splotched skin.

"Your boyfriend hates me." She said after Blaine had held the washcloth on the back of her neck for a few moments.

"What?" He asked, confused.

"_Kurt_?" She hissed, pulling back. "He. Hates. Me." She bit out every word; like she was angry she had to repeat herself.

Blaine remained very patient. "I know what you said, I'm just confused."

He pulled his arms back, holding the cold washcloth in his hands as her hands balled up into fists, rubbing her face tiredly. "That's why I was at _Pig Pete's_."

Blaine placed the washcloth back onto the sink. "Kurt doesn't hate you." A tinge of frustration flared in his voice; drunken Rachel was so hard to pull information from. It was easier to ask the sink next to him what was going on.

"He _does_!" She started wailing; tears glossing over her eyes. "Oh, God…Blaine, he _does_!"

He shook his head; panic covering up his frustration in an instant. "Please, don't cry." He cupped the back of her head with his palm, stroking her hair. "Just tell me what happened."

"I-I got a part in NYADA's upcoming charity performance and K-Kurt didn't." She sobbed; her emotions even _more_ high strung when she was drunk. "He was _so_ upset," Blaine nearly smiled at her overuse of emphasis on random words in her sentences. "He said he deserved a part; he had practiced so hard and-and he hadn't even received a callback."

Her words sputtered through her mouth as she clutched at his shirt; her fist resting on his shoulder. "And let me guess," Blaine muttered. "Kurt took his anger out on you."

He shook his head, nearly disgusted when Rachel confirmed his suspicions with another sob. He sighed quietly and leaned up to hug her, pulling her into his chest, ignoring the fact that she was still without a shirt. He wished his boyfriend's behavior surprised him but it honestly didn't—when Rachel had run for student president back in high school Kurt had turned from her best friend to treating her like she was public enemy number one. Kurt had even taken his anger out on her when he had realized that Blaine confided in her about their relationship the last big fight they had had. Which had eventually just escalated their measly fight into World War III; anger lighting Blaine up like a flare because Kurt had had no right to go screaming at Rachel when it was _him_ that had decided to tell her what had been going on between them.

Rachel's sobs slowed as quickly as they had started; leaving her face a red splotchy mess, her hair tangled and disheveled, and a wet spot on the shoulder of Blaine's t-shirt from her tears. He pulled back and his thumb caught stray tears before he lifted her arms up to tug the black shirt over her form.

"You know, most guys would take advantage of me in your position." She said softly, her eyes wide and innocent like as she watched him fix the shirt at her waist.

"Most guys are assholes." He informed her. His boyfriend was one of them at this point. When Rachel passed out in his bed (and she would) he intended on giving him a call to give him a piece of his mind.

She snorted, very unladylike sounding. "Tell me how you _really_ feel." She giggled like she hadn't been sobbing into his shoulder moments before. "You're on the wrong team if that's your outlook on men."

Blaine shook his head. "And most men aren't your best friend…and gay." He added.

She pouted. "Are you still 100 percent?"

He couldn't help but smile, remembering that day in the Lima Bean that felt so long ago. "Yes Rachel, still 100 percent."

She let out a long breath that fanned out against his face. "Well…that's good I guess, for Kurt." She ruffled his hair, letting out a giggle. "I love when your hair is like this…alllllllll _curly_."

He shook his head and caught her wrist in his hand, his thumb running over the tree of blue veins outlined under her skin.

"No more gel!"

Blaine snorted. "I'll agree to that if you drink some water and get into bed, alright?" After all, she'd never remember they had even had this conversation tomorrow morning.

She pouted as Blaine helped her stand; her knees turned to jello on him and she just ended up slumping against his body. He bent down and scooped her up in his arms, carefully carrying her through the doorway that led to his bedroom. He set her down on the bed and turned the bedside light on, pulling the covers back as she attempted to pull her shoes off.

"Buckles are so…_convoluted_." She muttered, shaking her foot when her silver, buckled shoe wouldn't come off as hard as she tried.

He chuckled and sat down on the bed across from her, taking her ankle into his hands. "You are the only person I know who can use ridiculous words like 'convoluted' while drunk."

Blaine undid the buckle with ease and did the same for her other shoe; removing both so she could crawl into his bed. She sighed heavily and snuggled into his pillow, the giant curls in her hair puffing out over her face. He pushed them away and tucked them behind her ear before pulling the covers up to her chin.

"If you wake up sick you come get me, alright?"She muttered something about pie in response and Blaine just shook his head. "Rachel, if you vomit on these sheets you're buying me a new bedspread."

"They are an ugly shade of blue anyways, Blaine Anderson." She huffed, tugging the sheets higher and holding them tightly between her fists.

He rolled his eyes. "And what color do you think would better suit my bed sheets?"

She grinned. "We need to find you some sheets with _bowties_ on them!"

Blaine shook his head, getting up to place a trashcan right next to the bed just in case she needed it. "Alright, how bout this? You find me bowtie sheets and I'll personally pay for them myself."

Rachel giggled but she sounded sleepier by the minute. "You'll regret that proposal Mr. Blaine Bowtieeee." By the time she finished her sentence she was already half asleep, mumbling into his pillow about half priced sales at Target.

He turned the light off on the bedside table and headed back into his kitchen, finally pouring himself that cup of coffee he had wanted an hour ago. He ran a hand over his face and barely poured cream into his mug before he heard Rachel stir in his bedroom and cough loudly before she started to vomit.

Blaine closed his eyes. "Please tell me you reached the trash can, Rachel."

He heard her whimper. "Sorry."

0o0o0o0o0o

hope you liked it :) more to come eventually


	2. Ninety Percent

**Title**: Tonight You Belong To Me  
**Pairing**: mentions of Klaine; eventual Blainchel  
**Summery**: Blaine wasn't entirely sure why Rachel Berry found her way to his doorstep every time she was drunk; in all honesty he's was just impressed that she somehow managed to cross the street every time without getting hit by a car.  
**Type: **Ficlet  
**Rating**: Nothing too crazy, how bout a hard R.  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything but the idea :)  
**AN2**: This fic basically laps over Rachel and Kurt's sophomore year in college; around 20 years old. Which means any drinking that is done is with the help of a fake ID. So unless stated otherwise (like unless I say 'a year' later) Kurt and Rachel are 20 and Blaine is 19.

CHAPTER 2: Ninety Percent

O0oo000o00

The next time Rachel showed up on his doorstep Blaine had just said goodbye to Kurt; like literally, he had just closed the door after giving him a kiss. He was surprised they hadn't run into each other on the long walk down the hall and steps to the New York street below.

Blaine hadn't turned a fraction away from his front door before he jumped a mile high at her pounding on the white painted wood; the frame shaking from the force of her hits.

"Christ!" He shook his head, his heart still pounding in his chest; pumping anxiety through his veins that made his fingers tingle. "Rachel—"

The door was open for only a moment before she rushed past, her shoulder slamming into his with a force that knocked him back into his kitchen counter. Her purse fell from her shoulder as she rushed into his bedroom to reach his bathroom; he winced as he heard the toilet lid slam open against the porcelain and Rachel heave.

Blaine rubbed his shoulder and closed the door, picking up her purse to set it on the bed as he went into the bathroom. He kneeled down next to her, pulling her hair back into his one hand as she threw up. She coughed roughly, her hands squeezing the sides of the toilet bowl. She whimpered and pulled back a fraction as Blaine's other hand rubbed her back.

"Shh, you're okay." He muttered softly. "Take a few deep breaths."

When he was sure she was done throwing up he gently wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her back into him as he flushed the toilet.

"Can you stand?"

She shook her head, sniffling softly. There was sweat dotting her forehead from the sheer force her body had just exerted from her stomach emptying its contents; her hair starting to stick to her face. He pulled the sticky strands back as best he could before helping her up off the bathroom floor.

"Let's get you some tea."

She groaned 'no' but Blaine half-walked, half-dragged her into his kitchen anyways, sitting her at the island counter.

"The tea will help, you look like crap."

She took her decorative scarf off and threw it at his head as he filled up a kettle with water. "Your hair looks stupid with so much gel in it." She snapped back, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned back into the chair.

He rolled his eyes and tossed the scarf aside; the fabric fluttering to the floor like a puff of cigarette smoke.

"I literally just finished a date with Kurt," He placed the kettle on the stove and turned the fire on, "I didn't exactly have time to change out of my clothes and shower before you showed up at my door."

She glared at him but said nothing.

"You should really develop some sort of schedule so I can plan my day around when you're going to show up to vomit on my floor."

"Screw you, Blaine." She spat, holding her stomach tightly with both hands.

He nodded and clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth. "Charming."

He unbuttoned the first few buttons at the top of his blue dress shirt before getting out a mug for Rachel and a teabag from the cupboard.

"I don't want tea," She said from behind him. "I think I'm going to be sick again."

"That's what happens when you try to crawl inside a tequila bottle."

She groaned and rested her head down on the counter as he turned around to look at her. Her hair spread haphazardly onto the table, creating a messy halo.

He passed her to go into his bedroom, changing out of his dress pants and shirt, trading them for a comfortable pair of gray drawstring pajama bottoms and a clean white t-shirt. He ran his fingers through his hair a little, trying to dislodge the strands from the confines of the gel…at least a little bit. He wouldn't be getting a shower anytime soon with a drunk (well, more like a semi-sickly sober) Rachel Berry on his hands.

The tea kettle whistled nosily and Blaine moved to quickly shut the fire off before he opened the tea bag and placed it into Rachel's awaiting mug, pouring the hot water carefully. Steam rose from the cup, tickling his nose as he put the kettle down on a hot pad.

"Here, come on. Sit up."

She mumbled something that sounded a lot like 'fuck you, Blaine Anderson'. He stared at her head, frustration building up in his chest. He got the milk out of the refrigerator and poured a small amount into her cup (the way she liked it) and continued to dunk the tea bag in and out of the water.

"You gonna tell me what inspired you to make another visit to _Ugly Pete's_?"

"I didn't go there this time," She sat up a fraction; probably because she was sure she wasn't going to vomit anymore.

"Where'd you go?" He pushed the mug towards her and leaned onto the counter.

"That club where all the college kids go to." She muttered.

Blaine's eyebrows nearly shot up off his face. "_Saturn_? You went to Saturn by yourself?"

"I'm not three years old, Blaine!" She yelled, snatching the tea from him and wrapping her fingers around it.

He leaned up off the counter and shook his head. "Well, I was wondering why you declined Kurt's offer to go out to dinner…but now I know you were obviously too preoccupied with the idea of going out to get shit faced at a hole in the wall nightclub."

"Don't you dare judge me, _Anderson_."

She only addressed him by just his last name when she was really mad at him and that usually proceeded her throwing something…but he figured he was in the clear because she had already chucked her scarf at his head. The probability that she'd throw something heavier was low because he could tell she had a headache; a pretty bad one from the way she was rubbing her temples, eyes squeezed shut.

"You gonna tell me how you ended up at Saturn?"

"None of your business." She hissed, taking one angry sip of her tea.

"You really have to stop going out to drink by yourself." Blaine told her, choosing to ignore her pissy attitude. "New York isn't the safest city around Rachel; a lot of guys wouldn't think twice to take advantage of you after you've had a few drinks."

His gentle, calm and worried tone seemed to penetrate through her tequila induced; angered, headachy haze and she finally looked up at him; her soft brown eyes connecting with his. She swallowed, running the palm of her hand over her throat before tugging at the collar of her shirt in a nervous fashion.

"You never come when I invite you." She whispered. "You're always busy with work or Kurt."

He watched her carefully for a few moments as her head lowered to look at the mug in her hands; her hair falling like veils shadowing both sides of her face. The hints of hurt in her voice caused guilt to pool in his stomach. He wasn't supposed to be that person in her life who put that hurt in her voice; that caused her to go to a shady nightclub without him where any scum bag could pick her up if she was drunk enough. He was supposed to be the one to take that pain away from her; to make her smile when she was hurting.

And yeah, he _had_ been really busy lately; he'd been picking up extra shifts at Starbucks and any free time was spent with Kurt (who had been driving him up the wall lately because every time he saw him all Kurt wanted to do was talk about classes and school and any and every performance between then and Christmas). Blaine had trouble finding time to _call_ Rachel let alone see her.

"I'm sorry." He said softly.

Rachel shrugged softly; like it didn't bother her and Blaine nearly smiled because it was just so like her to try and deny it.

"I just miss you." She said finally, looking up at him as her lip wobbled. She shook her head and let out a breath between her lips.

Blaine rounded the corner of the island, turning her chair around so he could hug her. She let her body melt into his embrace; his arms encircling her tiny form. One arm rested across her back while the other stretched up so that his hand was lacing through her soft, silky hair. He felt her arms tightly grip his midsection, pulling him even closer than he thought possible. His fingers gently pressed up and down her spine as he placed a kiss on her hairline.

She laughed softly against his chest but it sounded choked with tears. "I'm sure you think I'm being utterly ridiculous. We never used to talk to each other so much and now, I go without you a few days and it's like crazy withdrawal."

Blaine smiled and shook his head, his lips still remaining on her hairline. "I knew you were utterly ridiculous the first moment I met you," He joked. "_Especially_, after that train wreck of a house party where you attacked me with your lips."

That made her giggle and he was glad when she pulled back from him that he saw no trace of pent up tears in her eyes. "I bet your face _still_ tastes awesome."

Before he could even reply her lips were on his cheek, planting a long tender kiss on his skin. Her face was angled in such a way that he felt her nose dip to touch the side of his and her feather light eyelashes just managed to graze against his cheekbone.

She grinned, pulling back and licking her lips. His eyes were drawn to the pink, swollen skin a lot longer than they should have. He wanted to run his thumb over her lower lip—he bet the pink pigment would get darker after kissing her for a long time. He tried to remember back that drunken haze in her basement; where his lips could just _not_ get enough of hers. Rachel's lips had been a shade darker to nearly a red; like an apple or what her skin would probably look like sun burnt. Kurt had told him once that he had basically spent the rest of that night 'sucking Rachel Berry's face' and even though Kurt had always been appalled; Blaine hadn't been so bothered with it.

And it _still_ didn't bother him…he distantly felt like that was something that should have worried him.

But it didn't.

"Yep, still pretty awesome if you ask me."

Blaine scoffed. "Well, I would hope so," He asked, mock horror covering his features. "Anything less than awesome would be unacceptable!"

She rolled her eyes but a small brilliant smile found its way on her lips. "Can I stay the night?"

He gave her a face. "Do you really even need to ask?"

Rachel smiled at him before taking her cup of tea over to the couch, sitting to the one corner. He joined her a moment later, wrapping a blanket around the both of them. They had finally settled on a movie; after twenty minutes of arguing over _Funny Girl_ and _Bringing up Baby_ (he should stop letting her win because Rachel almost always fell asleep within ten minutes of the film starting).

He glanced at her twenty minutes in when he felt her head rest on his shoulder; her body slightly angled towards his, half empty cup of cold tea gently resting in her hands, long forgotten about. He carefully took the cup of tea and set it on the coffee table, trying not to jostle her in her sleep. He'd take the couch again; let her have his bed…maybe he should start investing in an air mattress for when she showed up on these half drunken occasions.

Blaine hooked his arm under her legs, picking her up with ease to carry her into his bedroom. He moved around in the dark, knowing the layout perfectly without any light to guide him. He laid her down and pulled the covers back, picking her back up to tuck her under them.

Of course, what happened then couldn't have been predicted even if he had tried and he cursed the lone forgotten sock on the hardwood floor (he needed to stop sleeping with socks on; his bed ate them and then they ended up on the floor days later). He went to lean back up away from Rachel's sleeping form when the tip of his foot back-stepped onto the sock (it was probably those awful reindeer ones his mother had gotten him four Christmases ago) and if he hadn't been so off balance to begin with, he wouldn't have slipped—right down onto Rachel's body.

He heard her sharp intake of breath as his chest collided with hers; his pelvis digging into the tops of her thighs. His nose grazed hers as his body settled; the room spinning in some sort of twisted slow motion as it took him forever to situate his arms on both sides of her body to push himself up and off of her.

Rachel fumbled for a moment and he thought she was going to turn the bedside light on; either that or smack him, but he merely felt the bed shift as she sat up. He noticed that there was a very faint glow in the room from the streetlights outside the window and the bright lights of a city that never really slept; but not enough to really see her. He could pick out the hints of curls in her hair; the swell of her lower lip and a deep sparkle hidden in her eyes.

"Sorry," He cleared his dry throat. "I slipped on a…" He looked to the floor, even though he couldn't see the perpetrator sock. "goddamn sock." He muttered.

"And here I thought you were taking advantage of me." He could hear the smile in her voice and he chuckled softly; running a nervous hand through his disheveled hair.

"Nope, still 100 percent." He told her softly, reaching forward to look for her hand among the sheets that were tangled around her limbs.

"Full hundred, huh?" She giggled, like some heavier meaning was beyond the pretty sound.

His fingertips grazed hers before they interlocked hands; fingers winding around each other in a comfortingly familiar way.

Blaine never really noticed how soft her skin was before; or how his nose picked up hints of vanilla.

He faltered; his thumb running over the inside of her wrist. _No_. Not a full hundred. His heart slammed in his chest and he swallowed, trying to reply to her without his voice shaking in the dark.

More like ninety.

Ninety percent.

He reached up and ran a hand through her hair. "Yeah, Rach, still a full one hundred."

0o0o0o

:) feel better rachel


	3. Eighty Percent

**Title**: Tonight You Belong to Me  
**Pairing**: mentions of Klaine; eventual Blainchel  
**Summery**: Blaine wasn't entirely sure why Rachel Berry found her way to his doorstep every time she was drunk; in all honesty he's was just impressed that she somehow managed to cross the street every time without getting hit by a car.  
**Type: **Ficlet  
**Rating**: Nothing too crazy, how bout a hard R.  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything but the idea :)  
**Author's note 1**: Blaine may be just a little OC because he's developed and changed as a character. Also, I have this thought that he swears like a sailor sometimes. First time writing blainchel; I just have so many feelings. Be gentle. Sdflksdjflkjsdf  
**AN2**: This fic basically laps over Rachel and Kurt's sophomore year in college; around 20 years old. Which means any drinking that is done is with the help of a fake ID. So unless stated otherwise (like unless I say 'a year' later) Kurt and Rachel are 20 and Blaine is 19.

CHAPTER 3: Eighty

O0oo000o00

A few months had passed and Blaine was still on the fence about why he had lied to Rachel. He was supposed to be her best friend (yeah, whether or not Kurt liked it one bit) so…shouldn't he be able to tell her the weird and confusing thoughts turning around in his head?

He thought he'd feel different after time had passed…like the last time this sort of thing had happened; when his feelings were indistinguishable and he was trying to figure out who he was he had been drunk off whatever Puck had been putting into his hands and Rachel's mouth had been all over his.

A few days after her drunken extravaganza and a very uncomfortable and awkward date with Rachel had passed, it had been clear. He was gay; a hundred percent gay. He had been so confident that he had _told_ her in front of an entire coffee shop, turning to leave her with a smug, satisfied look on his face.

But not this time. Months had passed since he had basically fallen on top of Rachel Berry's body and he was _still_ at ninety. He knew that sexuality didn't exactly work that way, on an easy to read and explainable percentage scale, but he felt like if he looked at it from that point of view he felt a little bit more in control. Because thinking about it otherwise made his skin crawl and his stomach sick. He had no idea what was going on with him and it was seriously starting to freak him out.

He had to tell her. He had to tell _someone_ or he was going to start spiraling.

"Are you even listening?"

Blaine looked up from his dinner plate at Kurt, who was staring pointedly at him. He swallowed, trying not to look as guilty as he felt.

"I'm sorry."

Kurt sighed, eating the last of his spaghetti before taking the plate into Blaine's kitchen. Blaine closed his eyes and shook his head; bringing his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He followed Kurt into the kitchen a moment later, setting his plate down among the dishes in the sink.

"I'm sorry," He said again, touching Kurt's shoulder. "I've had a lot on my plate these last few days."

Kurt brought his arm up and moved Blaine's hand off his shoulder. "It's not just the past few days, Blaine and I have a lot going on too."

Blaine sighed, turning the water on in the sink to rinse some of the dishes. "I know you do Kurt, I know you've been stressed with school and classes and the endless performances. I said I was sorry," He pulled back to dry his hands on a dishtowel. "What more do you want from me?"

"I want you to show some interest in what I'm saying!" Kurt's voice was gaining more and more frustration by the minute. "Every time I try to talk to you about something important you zone out!"

That _wasn't_ true but something in Kurt's voice struck a nerve in him and instead of defending himself now all Blaine felt like doing was arguing. He angled his body towards him. "Maybe if we talked about something other than school and class and NYADA for _once…"_

"Well, excuse me for trying to talk to my boyfriend about what's going on in my life!"

His indignant tone just added fuel to Blaine's slowly growing fire. His fists clenched as anger started to build up in his chest. "Which is fine when it's not all the goddamn time!" He tried to keep his voice in control. There were thin walls and he was not making matters worse by his neighbors filing noise complaints.

"It's not all the time." Kurt tried to defend, crossing his arms over his chest.

Before he could even finish his sentence Blaine talked over him. "Come on, Kurt! I tried to fool around with you before we even started dinner and all you wanted to do was talk about the costumes in the upcoming Christmas play!"

Kurt glared at him. "Oh right, it's so wrong when _I _try to talk to you about school but when Rachel starts her speeches about professors and unfair classes it's the most interesting thing you've ever heard."

Blaine sent him an equal glare; something snapping inside him at the mention of Rachel's name. "Don't bring Rachel into this." He warned.

"She's already a part of this!" Kurt yelled.

"Would you keep your goddamn voice down?" Blaine snapped in an angry whisper.

Kurt pointedly ignored him. "You think I don't notice how close you two have gotten? How—how you just you _sat_ there and listened attentively the whole time at lunch today while Rachel droned on and on and about how Professor Richardson seemingly has it 'out for her' because he didn't recommended her for the Christmas production?"

"She's my friend and she was upset, what was I supposed to do? Just ignore her and the fact that she wasn't telling us something?" He asked, exasperated. "I would have done the same thing if it had been _you_, so why are you making such a big deal out of me making sure that she was alright?"

"Right of course, the world literally stops when Rachel Berry is upset." Kurt hurriedly gathered his coat, slipping it on as fast as he could, ignoring _everything_ he had just said.

Blaine knew exactly what this was; he could read it all over Kurt's face. He was _jealous_. "Jealousy isn't a good look on you, Kurt." Blaine sneered. "Rachel's become a really good friend and yeah, I care about her. I'm not going to apologize for that."

"Except that it's more than that." Kurt put his bag over his shoulder and shook his head. "You look at her…sometimes and there's this…shine in your eyes that I will _never_ understand. When you touch her hand or give her a hug her entire face lights up." Blaine swallowed, looking down at the kitchen floor.

"We just…understand each other." He said lamely; he couldn't explain it either. He couldn't get Kurt to understand any more than he was already trying to.

Kurt shook his head, disgusted. "Typical Rachel, trying to steal people's attention no matter where she can get it."

"This fight is not about Rachel!" Blaine finally screamed; his frustration hitting its peak. Arguing about Rachel was _not_ what Blaine had been angry about in the first place. Kurt had turned this whole fight into 'you're stealing my best friend and Rachel is stealing my boyfriend'.

He groaned when he heard one of his neighbors pound on the wall, telling him to kindly 'shut the fuck up'. Blaine shook his head, running his hands over his face.

"She's not what started this." He said more calmly, even though his voice still had hints of strained frustration and anger.

Kurt couldn't even look him in the eye as his voice trembled. "No, but she's the one who's ending it."

Blaine's heart slammed up into his throat and he stuttered out a reply as Kurt started making his way to the front door. "Wait, Kurt…Kurt _wait_ a minute." He grabbed his arm. "Are you…are you breaking up with me?"

Kurt choked out a laugh as a tear ran down his cheek. "No, you can tell Rachel we're taking a break…I'm sure you'll find _time_ to talk to her about this."

And with that he slammed the door in his face.

000

Rachel, of course, decided to grace him with her drunken presence two hours after Kurt had left; except this time around Blaine really wasn't in the mood to cater to her needs.

He had been cleaning up the kitchen from the disaster of a dinner with Kurt when he heard a tentative knock on his front door. It knew it wasn't Kurt; he was too pissed to even talk to him let alone come back to make up.

It could only be one person; and her knock was so soft and unsure that Blaine knew, at least, that she wasn't completely trashed.

He opened the door to see her leaning on the frame, smiling lopsidedly at him. "Blainey!"

Blaine licked his lips and dug around in his pants for his wallet. "Rach, I'm really…not in the mood tonight, how bout I pay a cab to take you home."

It really hadn't been directed at her like a question but apparently Rachel considered his statement to be an option because she pushed past him, nearly tripping over her heels as she dropped her purse on the kitchen countertop.

"I can't go home! Blaine," She turned, looking at him like she was about to disclose something serious. "There is an Andrew McCarthy marathon on tonight, it's already started, I'm _late_!"

She ran over to the couch and plopped herself down onto the cushions; she huffed when she realized the remote was under her and nearly rolled herself off the couch to get at it. She finally managed to pull it up from under her, accidently hiking her skirt up her thigh and—Jesus Christ, _no_, he really couldn't do this tonight.

He closed the door and sighed softly, walking over to the couch. "Rachel, I mean it. My kitchen is a mess and—" He couldn't even get the words out about Kurt. "I just want to go to sleep."

She pouted. "Well then _go_." She crossed her arms over her chest. "_Pretty in Pink_ is on!" She squealed as she found the correct channel, smiling dreamily at Andrew on the screen. "Did you know that his character is named _Blaine_ too?" She giggled and shook her head. "You really look nothing alike though…"

Rachel frowned; like the thought was somehow foreign and confusing to her. Blaine just stared at her before shaking his head, frustration starting to build up in his chest.

"We don't look alike because we're not actually related or anything Rachel." He stated and the fact that he had to explain that to her like she was a toddler really frayed the edges of his nerves.

"That's too bad," She mused, completely engrossed in the TV. "He has such nice cheekbones."

He ran a tired hand through his hair, moving to tug her skirt down so he wasn't so he couldn't become preoccupied by her bare skin. She looked up at him and smiled, patting the couch—she wanted him to join her even though she was basically taking up the whole thing with her small body, limbs splayed distractingly. Any other night he would have moved her; picked her up and shimmied her into a corner before crawling close, letting her wrap her arms around him, cling to him through her drunken stupor. Not now. He just…he couldn't.

"I have to clean up my kitchen." Blaine said, turning his back on her.

Her hand caught his, tugging him to a stop. "Blowwww the kitchen off." She pouted. "Sit and watch a movie with me."

"Do you have some kind of internal GPS that leads you to my apartment every time you have sip of alcohol in you?" Rachel giggled, swinging their hands loosely. "What happened this time? Was it school, Kurt, school or Kurt?" He asked condescendingly as he tore his hand from hers. "Those seem to be a running theme for you."

Rachel seemed to pick up the hint that he was upset because she looked at her hand and then at his before slowly pulling back. "I…I was on a blind date." Then her tipsy giggles took over again. "The only good thing about it was the free alcohol."

"Getting drunk with a date this time, classy Rachel." He shook his head, turning away from her again to head into the kitchen.

He could hear her follow him into the kitchen, her feet gently padding against the floor. She jumped up into one of the island chairs and kneeled on it, leaning her body onto the counter as she watched him dry dishes.

"Aren't you going to ask me how it weeeeeeent?" She sang. "Oh! Did you have pasta for dinner?"

She touched one of the pans that were still sitting out from dinner and jumped down from her chair to grab a fork from a drawer. He took the fork from her before she could even reach the pot of spaghetti on the stove.

"So you can throw it up later?" He asked her skeptically. "No."

She pouted. "Blaine! Give me it!" She leaned against his chest, trying to reach the fork that he put high above her reach. "I just want to try some of it." She whined. "Please?"

Rachel tried to tug on his arm and frowned when she couldn't make him budge. "No. Go sit down, I'll get you some water." He wrinkled his nose. "You smell like a distillery."

She glared at him, pulling back to cross her arms over her chest. "You don't smell like roses either, mister." She pointed out.

The words tumbled out before he could really think about them. "I don't have to ask you how your date went because if it had gone well you wouldn't be _here_, slurring on about Andrew McCarthy."

Rachel swallowed and took a step back from him; his words slowly registering in her cosmopolitan soaked brain. "Rick was all hands," She continued after a few minutes, even though he clearly hadn't asked. "So I came here when he tried to put his hands up my skirt." Her voice grew smaller as she admitted that, looking down at her feet.

Blaine didn't know whether he was angrier at Rick for trying to put his hands on her or Rachel for going out to sleazy bars with sleazy men, getting drunk and then _walking_ here like it was all okay and dandy.

"Rachel you can't keep doing this," He said. "You can't just…show up whenever you're shit faced and expect me to take care of it!"

Rachel's breath stuttered in her throat. "Did you…I came here because I feel safe here!" It seemed like his words were quickly sobering her up. "You're my best friend!"

"Exactly, so stop treating me like I'm your boyfriend!" He screamed, making her flinch. "I am not _Finn_, Rachel. I'm not here to clean up your drunken messes. Did you ever consider that as one of the reasons Finn decided to up and leave you in the first place?"

Blaine should have anticipated that she was going to hit him; but it wasn't until his head jerked to his left from the force of her slap that he really realized what had just come out of his mouth. His eyes watered momentarily as he heard her whimper, turning around to rush into his bedroom; slamming the door behind her.

That was two doors now that had practically slammed in his face. He was obviously going for some sort of record.

"Way to go, Anderson," He muttered to himself, holding his stinging cheek. "You're president of the asshole club."

He sighed before kicking the bottom of his kitchen counter; a resounding boom echoing throughout the apartment.

000

Rachel still hadn't come out of his bedroom. He should have known this was going to happen the moment the door slammed, locking him out. He had tried talking to her through the door; begging her to let him in to apologize but the door hadn't budged.

He could hear her sobbing into his bed and his heart ached to the point where he was literally sick to his stomach over the comment he had made to her about Finn.

Blaine wasn't even sure _why_ he had said it…he hadn't meant it and it wasn't like he even thought that at all to begin with. Whatever the reason Finn had chose to leave Rachel for had to do with _Finn _himself_, _not Rachel_. _Blaine had explained that to her the night he had broken up with her; she had done nothing wrong and if Finn couldn't love her for the amazing, beautiful, talented girl that she was and put up with her going after her dreams and passion no matter the cost…than it was his own loss. It had been shitty of Blaine to put that doubt in her mind; to make her think for a second that she had been the reason that their relationship had ended.

He tried knocking on the door one more time before he gave up, hoping that he could get her to open up to him; not that he deserved it or anything.

"Rach?" He asked softly, resting his forehead against the door. "Please open up?"

He heard her shuffle but he could tell there was no movement towards the door. He knew playing dirty wasn't exactly fair at this point but it was nothing that she wouldn't have done if he was the one mad at her.

"Look, I know you're mad at me and you should be but I have to pee and you're blocking me from my bathroom." He stated. "Are you really going to make me pee in the kitchen sink?"

Alright, so maybe he shouldn't have added that last part because he knew Rachel could be sadistic when she wanted to...especially when she was mad.

A moment later, nothing.

Blaine sighed, tapping his forehead off the door as his eyes squeezed closed. But then…he heard movement; some more shuffling that sounded like it was coming _towards_ the door and he nearly jumped for success when she opened it a crack to look at him.

"I'm not mad at you." She choked out; her voice thick from crying. "I'm hurt."

He gently pushed open the door, taking in her red rimmed eyes with tear tracks over her blush blotched cheeks. She sniffled softly and wrapped her arms around her midsection, like it was the only thing holding herself together. He wanted nothing more but to hug her, to pull her close and kiss her face and touch her and try to tell her how sorry he was for his dumbass mouth and comment and that the only reason he had been so upset was because of the damned fight he had had with Kurt before she had shown up.

"I am so sorry." His words came out in a rush of breath. "I shouldn't have said that about you and Finn…I don't…I don't even know _why_ I said it."

"Do you…do you think it's true?" She asked, tugging the ends of her hair. "Do you think I'm the reason he wanted to leave?"

He had no idea how she could even ask him that; he had been awful to her and yet she was still looking up at him with those wide, innocent, worried eyes asking him to make her feel better, to assure her in a way that only he could.

"No," He told her firmly. "Finn leaving was _Finn's_ fault." He grasped her shoulders and rubbed her collar bone with his thumbs. "You deserve someone who is going to stay no matter how hard you have to work for your dreams, someone who believes in you and loves you for who you are."

Her lower lip wobbled as he spoke and she shook her head, opening her mouth to say something but a sob tumbled from her lips instead.

"Come here." Blaine said softly, opening his arms to pull her into an embrace. She moved into his touch instantly, her arms wrapping around his back, squeezing him so tight.

He stroked her hair tenderly as she sobbed into his chest, muttering about how she missed Finn sometimes and how she hated feeling so lonely. She hated that she had to rely on friends in her class to set her up on blind dates that were awful and that she had never felt lower then when Rick had tried to feel her up under her skirt.

Blaine felt that same rage fill him up inside, only this time it was definitely directed towards that scumbag Rick. He was lucky he didn't know the guy personally because all he wanted to do was find him and punch him in the face.

He couldn't believe that Rachel had tried to tell him in confidence that after some guy assaulted her that all she had wanted was to come to him, to her _safe_ place, and all he did was throw some half-assed comment about Finn and her drunken escapades in her face.

He pulled her down to sit on the bed with him, pulling back just enough to cup her face to wipe tears away. "You are not alone, alright?" He told her. "You have Kurt and you have me."

Rachel managed a small nod, her sobs dying down to sputtering breaths after ten straight minutes of him just holding her in his arms; stroking her back and rocking her ever so slightly while her chin rested on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry." He said again, whispering it in her ear.

She sniffled and tiredly shook her head. "I'm sorry I slapped you."

Blaine licked his lips. "Well, I deserved it."

Rachel pulled back and touched his cheek, her thumb running over the red mark on his cheekbone. She shook her head. "Something's wrong with you…your…your eyes are sad."

His eyes searched hers for a moment before looking down, his face leaning into her touch ever so slightly. "I had a fight with Kurt before you showed up. I don't know why it took me so long to say something to you."

"You were upset." She said like it was so matter-of-fact; like that somehow excused everything he had said to her.

"And I should have _never_ taken it out on you."

She shrugged her one shoulder. "If you can't vent on your best friend who can you vent to?" She smiled at him and it tugged something hard in his chest; he felt a lump in his throat as his eyes started to fill with tears.

"Your best friend shouldn't make you cry like that." He said ashamed.

Rachel shook her head before she moved her arms up and around his shoulders, hugging him tight. He sighed shakily, his arms wrapping around her back. He felt her hands lace through his hair, rubbing his scalp comfortingly.

"What was the fight about?" She asked softly.

_You_. "I…I just wanted to spend some time with him, you know…intimately and he can't shut his mouth for more than two minutes about NYADA and performances and classes and…" He shook his head, pulling back out of her embrace. "I probably overreacted."

She kept stroking his hair. "I'm sure you had a good point. Finn was right when he said that I wanted to spend more time on stage than with him. It hurt to hear but…he was right."

"Finn was an ass." He muttered, rolling his eyes.

She smiled softly and tapped the tip of his nose, making him connect eyes with her. "That may have been true but that didn't make what he said any less right. Kurt has to make time for you; he has to _want_ to make time for you."

He leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes for a moment before nodding. They sat like that for a long time—soaking in each other's warmth and presence. Blaine's right hand curled around hers on her lap while her other gently twisted through the curls on the side of his head.

"I had no idea you had such a rough night, I'm sorry." Rachel said softly, he could feel her breath against his mouth.

He shook his head a little. "Well, it's not like your night was perfect either."

She smiled softly. "No, definitely not…but still, what you said about me always coming over when I'm drunk—"

The hand that wasn't wound around hers gently touched her mouth to get her to stop talking. "Just…do me a favor and ignore everything I said since you got here, alright?"

"Even the part about me not being alone?" She asked, a small smile broke out on her lips and grazed against the hand that was still touching her mouth. Her eyes fluttered down to look at his skin.

He smiled too. "How about everything _before_ the slap?"

"Deal." She squeezed his hand.

Blaine pulled back from her to wipe the tear streaks of black makeup that were staining her face; his thumb worked to remove the smudges, her eyes watching his face carefully as he did so. He was drawn to her somehow; watching her while she watched him. He stood and planted a kiss on her forehead before walking over to the dresser near the bathroom door. After everything that had happened tonight; he thought he'd be thinking about Kurt. There was this…ache inside him if he really focused on it; a black hole in his heart when he thought about Kurt's trembling words about taking a break. The fact that he wasn't completely consumed by it, however, should have bothered him.

Kurt was his boyfriend. He had picked up his entire life and moved to New York to be with him. He was the love of his life.

Blaine swallowed, tugging the top drawer open to look for something comfortable that Rachel could wear…and something that would cover all the bare, tan, smooth skin of her legs.

Since when had her legs looked so…long?

He wondered if Rick had touched her there; if his greasy, calloused hands had traveled up her body, tugging at the ends of her skirt before trying to go higher—to the soft inner skin of her thighs. His one fist clenched unconsciously as he tugged a shirt out of one of the drawers.

"Here, I'll have to find you some sweats or something to go with it."

She sat up on the bed, leaning to take the shirt in his hands. She placed the soft fabric on her lap; her fingers toying with the collar for a moment. She looked so small in the center of his bed like that; so tiny framed and fragile. Sometimes he wondered if she thought that she had to get drunk on purpose to come here to spend the night; because being alone in that apartment where she and Finn had spent so many nights together was too much for her to handle.

"You know you can come here whenever you want to…right?" He licked his lips as she looked up into his eyes. He gave her a playful smile. "Even when you're frighteningly sober." He ruffled her hair.

Rachel giggled softly and smacked his hand away. "I know."

"I can give you a key…" Blaine nodded softly. "So even if I'm not here and you need some place…safe to go…" Why was he having so much trouble getting the words out?

She rolled her eyes. "I'm sure Kurt would just love that, me showing up with a key, without even knocking on your front door…interrupting you two whenever or during whatever you're doing."

Blaine looked down before turning to look in the second drawer down for some pants for her. "This isn't about Kurt."

She swallowed. "Don't you think it should be? I-I don't want to make anything worse between you two and he already thinks I'm nosy, can you imagine what he's going to say when he knows you've given me a key to your place?"

He wasn't too concerned with how Kurt felt at the moment but he knew Rachel was right; the moment Kurt found out Rachel had a key (especially after the fight they had had tonight) he would go nuclear warzone on him.

"Do we really need to consider Kurt when it has nothing to do with him? You're my friend…I should be able to decide if I want to give you a key to my place or not." He pulled out a pair of dark blue sweatpants, holding them up as he stood. "These should fit you."

She took him from him, resting them over her arm along with the shirt he had given her as she stood from the bed. "It does have to do with him; he's your boyfriend."

"Not right now, he's not." Blaine muttered, closing the drawers before turning around to look at her. Her face fell instantly, her eyes searching his for some kind of answer or confirmation. He sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "The fight was…bad." He swallowed. "Kurt left wanting to take a break."

"Oh, Blaine…I'm so sorry." She touched his arm, squeezing his bicep.

He tried to smile, watching her hand on his arm. "Maybe…a break will be a good thing," He moved to put his hand over hers, running his thumb over her knuckles. "He's stressed with school and I've been picking up more shifts…"

Rachel smiled confidently. "Right, yes! Give him time to miss you."

He smirked softly before taking her hand and twirling her in a playful circle. He pulled her to his chest, his hand resting on her back.

"Thank you for making me feel better."

Rachel stilled a little against him; her body resting into his ever so slightly. He hadn't noticed how close his face was to hers, that if he leaned in…just an inch, he could rest his forehead against hers, let his lips touch her lips; he could graze his nose along hers. He felt that imaginary percent in his head waver at the thought of how soft her lips could be; if they tasted like the lip-gloss she always kept in her purse, if Rick had tried to kiss her rough enough to bruise.

A breathe stuttered in her throat; it sounded like she was caught between a laugh and trying to say something. Blaine had _flustered_ her…and something warm and exciting curled in his belly, tugging lower as he thought about how much he enjoyed the embarrassed blush on her cheeks.

And that should have really, _really_ bothered him.

But it didn't.

"Thank _you_ for your clothes!" Rachel laughed suddenly, gently pushing on his chest to be released from his hold. He let her go and watched her head to the bathroom, closing the door to change.

Blaine leaned into his dresser, rubbing the back of his neck before running a hand over his face. Stress. This all had to be from stress…and the fight with Kurt. He couldn't have honestly been thinking about…Rachel like that. She was his best friend and he was _gay_ goddamnit. He thought that he might have made her uncomfortable but Rachel came out of the bathroom, smiling brilliantly at him in his too big clothes, crawling over onto his bed like he hadn't had her up against his chest, thinking about kissing her a moment ago.

Stress. He needed to take a day off work and go walk his sexual frustration and confusing percentages off in a park or something.

Rachel patted the bed next to him and even though he felt like he should, he couldn't deny her. He crawled over onto the bed and settled next to her, moving to put his arm around her shoulder as she snuggled close to him, resting her head on his chest. Any other night this would have been fine; they had been in this position countless times before this one. But it was different.

He was different.

"How many blind dates have you been on?" Blaine asked quietly, his hand absentmindedly rubbing her shoulder.

She played with a button on his shirt. "Four in the past month."

She'd been broken up with Finn for four months, so how many had she had since then? "You didn't tell me."

Rachel swallowed. "I was embarrassed. I'm obviously just grasping at straws."

He squeezed her. "You just haven't found the right one yet."

Her knee grazed his leg as she shifted against him, her hand stilling on his chest, buttons forgotten about. "Are you going to go out on any dates…did Kurt say he wanted to see other people while on this break?"

Blaine traced a circle onto her shoulder; he honestly hadn't thought about that. Could he see other people while Kurt took this break with him? Did he even _want_ to see other people? The only date he had ever really been on had been with Rachel back in high school—Kurt and him had kind of skipped over dating and gone right to being boyfriends. And sure, they had had dates after that, but going out with someone without being in a relationship was obviously a different experience.

"I don't know," He said honestly. "I don't think I'm very good at dates."

She smiled. "You're being silly. Kurt's told me about some of the dates he's been on with you. You're a good dater."

He chuckled. "It's easy to impress someone who's already in love with you. I don't think I've been on a date with someone where you barely know the person and it's all fresh and exciting and nerve wracking. I'm sure I'd be a complete and utter mess."

"You were good on our date." She said after a moment. "You were polite and fun and…well, I should have noticed you were gay after you recited all that dialogue with me."

"Right." He coughed softly, shifting against the headboard.

Rachel continued on, either not noticing or not commenting on his sudden uncomfortableness. "But I had a really good time; you were sweet and you listened to everything I had to say, very attentive." She giggled. "I think you'd be fine if you didn't over think it."

"Maybe," He said softly, running his hand down her arm from her shoulder.

She sat up a little. "I think you should 'play the field' as they say." She had such a confident, pretty smile on her face that it almost made him want to do what she was trying to propose.

"Wait, who says that?" He teased, smiling as she started to blush.

Rachel pushed on his chest. "_People_." She stuck her tongue out. "We'd have to find a good gay bar though; I can go with you!"

He shook his head. "You at a gay bar?" He gave her a skeptical look.

"Well, I could be your wing woman! So you wouldn't have to go by yourself."

"So when I find someone tall, dark, and handsome—"

"With equally strong cheekbones and great dancing hips." She added.

Blaine tickled her and rolled his eyes. "I just leave you there to fend for yourself?"

"Well, you could take me with you, but I'm not into threesomes."

She said that with such confidence and seriousness that he nearly choked on his own spit. If it hadn't been for the glimmer in her eye that told him she was just joking around he might have tried to convince her that threesomes weren't so bad, if you had the right people. Not that he knew that much about threesomes or anything…

"That's too bad, that's all I had been picturing since you mentioned yourself at a gay bar." He chuckled darkly at the slow pooling arousal in his stomach and Rachel's cheeks lighting up in an attractive pink blush.

Rachel then rolled her eyes, tickling him in his side before plopping down onto his chest again. He shook his head, his lips resting in her hair as she tucked her head under his chin.

"You're not funny."

Blaine shrugged. "I am hilarious."

He could feel her smile; it seemed to fill her whole body up to the point where she radiated warmth against him. "If you say so."

She was quiet for a long time after that and Blaine thought she might have fallen asleep. He glanced down at her fighting back a yawn and he ran his fingers through her hair, making her eyes flutter close.

"You could try dating girls." She said suddenly, her voice thick with tiredness. He thought he may not have heard her right…or that she didn't know what she was saying because she was so close to falling asleep. "You know, just to see." The yawn she had been holding back finally escaped her. "If you're—" She sighed softly. "Not at 100 percent."

He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the headboard. Eighty-two.

More like eighty-two percent.

Blaine just nodded, reaching down to pull a blanket over top of her. "One hundred." He whispered in her ear. "Still one hundred."

Maybe more like eighty.


End file.
